I could share my side
of the argument
with everyone in this bar
but instead I haul it before the judiciary
of my thoughts.
I could fight the battle
with all these drunken soldiers
but instead remain
this country of one
with its slumped in corner,
fingering the whiskey glass,
patriot.
I could open up
the operating theater
of my pain and guilt
to these loud and laughing surgeons
but instead I begin
the process with my own trembling hands,
feel for where the incision
must be made,
call for a scalpel,
call for you.